"Hey. You." A burly griffon in a tuxedo and a pair of aviator shades shoved Valey with his very presence, somehow making it clear who he was talking to without budging, moving or looking whatsoever. "Yeah, you. Time for your match, bud. Follow me."
Valey had been sizing up the guard for the last three hours in her locker room, ignoring the dozen-odd other fighters that were huddled around a screen to watch the matches instead, and was reasonably confident that even unarmored, he could beat nine in ten tournament entrants handily. Why he didn't just compete was beyond her... Maybe he just liked looking cool. "Sure thing, dude," she agreed, breaking off her pacing and strolling to him as he opened the door. She was nervous, but about everything other than winning her match. Some poor fool had no idea what was coming.
The guard led her through a maze of dim, recently-mopped tunnels, effortlessly moving aside pairs of more military-looking guards and attendants, and suddenly stopped, the tunnel breaking into blinding daylight ahead. Valey blinked, giving her eyes a moment to adjust. There wouldn't be any shadow sneaking in this fight...
"Since this is your first fight, and all, the announcer will explain the rules before you start," the griffon told her, sounding surprisingly hip for someone who had likely said those exact words hundreds of times that day. "Try not to get completely destroyed out there, alright?"
Valey stretched, trying not to let her confidence stand out in either direction, and adjusted her beret with a wing. "Yup. Here I go."
Cheering broke around her like a wave, almost more encompassing than the sunlight. Valey frowned; was she that famous already? The colosseum bowl stretched up in a gigantic cone around her, making her crane her neck to see the horizon and filling her world with griffons and ponies. Around the bottom of the pit, set into the ground between the bleachers and the flat dusty floor, twelve windows waited, darkened images of fanciful figures watching from one or two of them. Boxes for the royal houses, she figured. They didn't even deserve her attention.
Like an island in a sea of sand, the ring sat, a square, slightly-raised construction without walls that could and had taken a beating from hundreds of pounds of force thrown atop it over and over. Her challenger already waited, a huge, bearded earth pony, posing and bowing and making a giant fool of himself. And there was also... She scowled in confusion, quickening her pace and skipping the steps, jumping straight onto the stage.
"Hark! Our challenger approaches!" A lavender pegasus with a garish, overdone mane and goatee flourished, pointing a ceremonial rapier in Valey's face.
"Pancake," Valey droned, ignoring the tingling in her cutie mark as her opponent stopped posing and began to size her up. "Do I even want to know why you're here?"
"By the hand of noble fate!" Howe's voice warbled ominously, and he pointed the rapier back at himself, Valey suddenly realizing it was a microphone. "We should hang later. Ahem. Audience, behold, one of my most-anticipated matches of the day! In the defender's corner, a crowd favorite from the pools round... Garfield the Unshaven! Through sheer force of charisma and the power of his beard alone, he flattened his opponents in seconds flat, capturing your hearts and minds like the studly stud I'm occasionally told he is! In the challenger's corner, meanwhile, with her sights set on that championship, we have a mare I've been unfortunate enough to cross hooves and blades with before... the hero and terror of Ironridge, Admiral Valey! Now, Valey, since this is your first round and all, give me a moment to explain the rules real quick..."
Valey nodded, suddenly feeling hot breath on the back of her neck. "Got a problem, bud?"
"Explanations are for losers," Garfield the Unshaven breathed, towering over her with a merciless gleam in his eye. "Here's a welcome present for the rookie, punk!"
Valey frowned. Garfield reared up, joining his forehooves for a double-overhead smash... Really? He announced a sneak attack, then went in with something so slow? Her cutie mark didn't even deem it dangerous enough to activate. He had to be taunting her. This was borderline offensive!
"Hey, hold that thought, Pancake." She waved a hoof to shut Howe up, then darted forward, windmilling her forelegs for three quick, successive uppercuts between Garfield's hind legs. WHAM! WHUD! POW! His eyes bugged a little further after each one, and Valey shot out from between his legs, backflipped into the air, and locked her own forehooves, copying his move and bringing them down on his own head. Her opponent whined, teetered, and crashed facedown in the arena.
"Sorry about that." Valey dusted herself off, standing on Garfield's back and looking back to Howe. "Had to take care of a thing that didn't want to wait. Okay, you were saying about rules? Let's get this over with so we can get the fight on the road."
"Uhhh..." Howe made a show of blinking at the fallen stallion, though winked at Valey when he thought only she was looking. "First things first. One two three four five six seven eight nine you're out!" He flung a hoof at Garfield's beard. "No cheating, mister! Or you'll be exorcised by divine prejudice from this very tournament!" He made a spooky face. "Now, uhh, let's try that again! My sword wing itches for action, so we'll just say that didn't count! So if you'll kindly take your places and wait for me to finish explaining things..."
Garfield's eyes opened with a snap of indignation, and he powered his hooves beneath him, snapping upright and launching Valey from his back. "Make a fool out of me, will you!?" he roared, brandishing his beard and whirling in a circle, looking for his opponent.
"Hey." Valey landed effortlessly behind him, unimpressed. Garfield's beady eyes found her and gleamed, and a pistonlike hoof retracted, preparing its ridiculously-long windup before it smashed her.
Valey just watched, not even dignifying it with a dodge... and then it struck the stage, and she was suddenly several inches away, facing backwards. She glanced over her shoulder, giving him an entire second to comprehend that he had missed, and then lashed out with a targeted rear kick, sending a hoof straight into his open, surprised mouth. "Put a sock in it!"
For a moment, Garfield blanched, but by the time he thought to bite down, she was already gone, winding up for the second strike and plowing both hooves into his face with everything she had. Valey braced her forehooves against the stage, flapping with her wings for a bit of extra thrust, and Garfield was lifted clean off the floor, thrown into a backflip by the power of her smash. She landed, darted forward, flipped onto her back and hit him again with all four hooves at once, giving his flight the extra power it needed to clear Howe's head and sail all the way out of the ring and into the dirt. Valey flipped upright, landing before he did and adjusting her hat with a disapproving frown.
"Well?" She glanced at Howe. "Think this dude still needs to be read the rules?"
Garfield groaned, tried to stand again, and collapsed in a heap.
Howe tsk'd, but rather than say anything, a new voice blared in over a set of loudspeakers. "Word from on high is in: that's a stomping! Admiral Valey takes the cake today! Congratulations, prospective future champ!"
Valey folded her ears. "Neon too?"
"From up in the judge's box, my mare," Howe proclaimed, putting a wing around Valey's back and risking a kick to the face of his own. "Ladies and gentlemares, we have our victor! It's, uhh, not technically official, but Garfield the Unshaven has been ruled forfeit by on high! Behold, the challenger stands victorious!"
The cheering from the crowd intensified, and Valey's ears lifted. Well, so far she seemed popular, though Garfield wouldn't be fun to see a vendetta from...
"Hey." Howe tapped her, offering her the rapier microphone. "The crowd is drinking this up like non-alcoholic cider! Got any feelings on your victory for them, Admiral? They'd love to hear from you!"
Valey blinked, then glanced at Garfield, and finally decided to muster a hearty belch.
"Whooo! You heard it from her, folks!" Neon Nova's voice boomed, joining in again to the commentary. "That's some fine optimism! We'll see if it holds up next match... Until then, let's get some new fighters on stage!"
"Oh yeah." Howe blinked. "One other thing... I might have been supposed to officially tell you how Regents work, but I shall assume you know that! Will you, uhh..." He blinked at Garfield, who was being dragged away by two griffon guards. "Do you want to spend yours and end his game?"
Valey winced. Bigger grudge, or bigger possibility of him being able to take it out? The way Wallace had explained it, if she survived the second round, there was a possibility she could rematch anyone she fought in it later... "Nah. Gonna hang onto mine. I'm good to go, right?"
"By this tournament's noble rules, you are free!" Howe bowed exaggeratedly, boulder-stiff mane not even flopping from its sheer amount of gel. "The way out is right over there. Stick around or join the audience or whatever."
"Cool." Valey bounded from the platform, keeping her walk dignified all the way until she was out of sight in the darkness of the tunnels once again.